Bardic Student Vanyel
by Dark Hermit Kaelin
Summary: What if blunt force head trauma could awaken Gifts? What if when Vanyel came to Haven, he had the Bardic Gift? How would this affect him and Tylendel?
1. Chapter 1

**Bardic Student Vanyel**

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, I simply play with them to soothe my poor little heart after reading_ Magic's Pawn_.

**Chapter One:**

Vanyel struggled out of unconsciousness, dizzy with pain and faced with a Healer standing over him.

"Well, lad, how many fingers am I holding up?"

"Four," he croaked. "Why? What happened?

"What happened is that you, young man, suffered some serious head trauma. I don't know what goes in that arms practice of yours, but you might want to lay off a bit. I was only holding up two fingers. I'm going to have to probe your head for more serious damage."

"As long as you can do something about the pain, I don't care," Vanyel stated, closing his eyes.

Long minutes later, the Healer sat back with a decidedly odd look on her face. "Lad, are you…musical?"

"I was. With my arm…will I be able to play again?"

"I think so, yes. Lad, have you heard of the Bardic Gift ever?"

"Bards have Gifts?"

The Healer chuckled. "I guess that answers that question. The Bardic Gift helps Bards affect their audiences. Have you ever been able to make people feel or act a certain way by playing music?" She looked at Vanyel intently.

"I don't think so. Why?

"Hmm. I'd heard that blunt force head trauma could sometimes awaken dormant Gifts, but I'd never seen it happen before. Gifts and head wounds are _not_ my specialty. Childbirth is. Vanyel, you have a cracked skull and a broken arm, but more than that, I'd say that the force and the pain awoke a latent Bardic Gift in you. You might want to get yourself to Haven."

Vanyel's heart leapt. To be a Bard! Then he remembered his father and it sank again. Withen would never let his heir become a Bard. It would be easy enough to prevent. All it required was keeping Vanyel away from any Bards that might pass through. "My father…" he began weakly.

"Ah," the Healer stood. "Well, you won't be good for anything but lying in bed for weeks yet, even with potions. Head wounds take a lot of energy out of you. Drink the mug by your bed, there," she nodded at it, "and you can go to sleep." She left the room.

The next time Vanyel fully woke from his fever dreams, it was to his sister sitting on the edge of his bed, dressed in traveling clothes. "Lissa," he croaked out.

"Oh, Van, I'm so sorry, but Father's making me leave now. I don't want to leave you, but—"

"But if you don't leave now, you'll never get out of here," he interrupted. "I understand, Liss, truly. One of us has to get out of here."

"Oh, Van. I promise I'll find some way to get you out of here too. Maybe when I get to Haven…"

"I trust you Liss." Vanyel managed a weak smile that lasted until his sister turned and left the room. Then the tears came. The only person in the entire keep who cared for him as a person was gone.

* * *

Weeks later, Vanyel sat in his hidden instrument room, testing the damage done to his hand. He'd lost a considerable amount of feeling in the fingers, even with the Healer there. The Healer had said something about music…or was that just another fever dream? _I wish I could remember. It's all hopelessly muddled up in my head now. I can't clearly remember anything that happened in those three weeks except for Lissa leaving, and even then I don't remember much except that she's gone._

Raised voices in the library caught his attention. It seemed his Father was intent upon his plan of sending Vanyel off to Haven, out of the way.

"He's nothing more than a perverted little nancy-boy!" Withen roared. "A catamite who's not fit for anything. I've tried to have Jervis beat him into a real man, but it doesn't seem to have stuck, especially not when he runs away from his arms lessons because of a broken arm. Maybe Savil can do something about the boy."

_A catamite? I suppose it's just as well I never took that minstrel up on his offer or you'd have proof._ For an aching moment Vanyel thought of the oh-so-beautiful minstrel Shanse, who had taught him new songs and would have taught him other things as well, if Vanyel had accepted his invitation. But he'd been too scared of his father finding out. _Just because I care for my appearance and don't want to bed the girls in Mother's bower I'm not a real man?_ He thought in disbelief. _I know I'm not what you wanted, Father, but I thought you at least cared for me. But now you want me out of your sight so that you can find some way to install Mekeal as heir instead. Well, Haven can't be worse than here, and it's better than the priesthood, although it could still come to that. At least they have Bards in Haven. I just won't let anyone get close to me._ He thought about his Aunt Savil, the one he was being sent to. They had been mutually unimpressed by each other on their first and only meeting, where he'd been dismissed as nothing more than a pretty face. _Well, she's a Herald. Maybe she'll be easier to live with than Father. At least she'll be more cultured than the people around here. And there's got to be some reason why Lissa worships her the way she does. Even if it's just because she's in the habit of defying Father. Hopefully that will extend to defying any orders he sends about me. Well, if I'm to be packed off to Haven, I'll do it on my own terms. I won't be sent there looking disgraced. I want to make a new start there, and I can't do it if I arrive looking like a prisoner. I know that's what Father expects. He'll try to keep me off my guard at all times. Well, he can't do that if I'm prepared._ Vanyel continued with his plans, determined to outwit his father when it came to his jailing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:**

Vanyel awoke feeling bemused the morning after his first night with his Aunt in Haven. On one hand, Aunt Savil was just as much an iron-hearted bitch as he remembered, and it was clear her opinion of him hadn't improved. On the other hand, not only had she ripped up his Father's letter, she was enrolling him in classes with Bardic students. _I'm sure Father told her I'm to be kept away from the Bards. Is she defying him or is this the only way to put me in lessons? I suppose I'll never find out if I don't get out of bed, however. And I'll remain on my guard. Any of them could hurt me. Especially that lovely blonde Trainee of hers. Gods._ He flung himself out of bed. _Time to greet the day, I suppose, and weapons work first thing. As long as I don't get a cracked skull out of it it'll be better than with Jervis. And wasn't it a Herald that wrote the damned book that got me into trouble in the first place? Hmm._ Continuing with his internal monologue, he strode into the common room of the suite to find both breakfast and the female Trainee waiting for him.

* * *

Vanyel entered his Literature class several candlemarks later feeling very confused. Lessons had been bad enough, but the conversation he'd heard in the hall, about testing him…so there was a Bardic Gift? And if there was, did that mean the rest of his fever dream about the Healer was real? Could he really get out from under his Father's thumb and become a Bard?

When Bard Breda asked him to play, he put his heart and soul into the music. All his pent-up longing and frustration he took out on the song. Was it his imagination or did her expression flicker? He bent over the gittern with renewed concentration for the remainder of the song. When he finished, there was polite applause from his classmates. He looked up, hardly daring to hope, and saw a smile on Breda's face. "See me after class, lad. I want to talk with you." He breathed a sigh of relief and barely heard a word that was spoken for the rest of class.

"Well young Vanyel," said Breda, looking intently at him, "You seem to have the Bardic Gift. Not strongly, but enough to enroll you in the Bardic Collegium, despite you being your father's heir. That is, if you wish to join."

"Oh, yes, please!" He cried, breaking his reserve. "Music is all I've ever wanted. I never wanted to be the heir, and truth be told, Father would rather have my brother in that position anyway. But he'll still object to my being a Bard just on principle," Vanyel said, looking worried.

"That doesn't matter anymore, lad. With the Gift and the Talent, we can enroll you in Bardic without any say in the matter from your father. You belong to Valdemar now, not him. Now, what say you we take a tour of the Collegium, then we go see your Aunt about enrolling you? It was her idea to test you in the first place." She stood and offered him a hand up.

"I'd love it." Together they walked out of the classroom and into the halls of Bardic Collegium.

* * *

Savil looked up from her supper to see her nephew enter the room escorted by Bard Breda. What surprised her most, however, was the expression of total joy and fulfillment he wore. It was by far the most open expression she'd ever seen on him, and transformed him from an arrogant brat to a young man no different from her Trainees.

"I take it this means you want him as your apprentice?" she asked Breda.

"Yes. He doesn't have an incredibly strong Gift, but its enough to take him away from his father. We just need to go through the formalities." Breda turned to Vanyel. "Van, I'm sure you noticed that we're a little cramped over at Bardic. If Savil allows it, you can live here instead of in the apprentice dormitories. If you live in the dorms, you'll have to share a room with someone."

"I don't mind having him here," Savil spoke up. "I've certainly got no other use for that room."

"Then," Vanyel said timidly, "I'd like to stay here. There's more room, and, well, I'd like to get to know you better, Aunt."

"Get to _me_? Why?

Vanyel's eyes widened in shock. "Havens, Aunt! You defied Father for me. No one but Lissa does that. No one but Lissa and I defy him at all. Father sent instructions to keep me as far away from the Bards as possible, and instead you sent me over to be tested for admittance. How could I not like you after that?"

"Ah." She settled back into her chair. "I just wish I'd seen your Gift earlier, lad. Breda, how did you find it? I didn't seen anything but potential when I tested him for Gifts a year ago."

Vanyel coughed. "Ah, I may have the answer to that. I'm not sure though. Up until today I thought it had been another fever dream, and I'm still not sure on the details. When I cracked my skull, the Healer said something about head trauma being able to awaken dormant Gifts."

"That would explain it," Breda said. "I'll leave you to your supper. Vanyel, come by my office in the morning so we can talk about your schedule." She left the suite.

By now, Savil's Trainees had drifted in to eat, but she paid them no attention. "Sit, lad," she told Vanyel. "I want to hear about this cracked skull."

He shrugged and sat on the couch in front of her. "It happened a few weeks ago—they only waited for me to heal before packing me off—during weapons practice."

She raised an eyebrow. "I've never heard of anyone getting injured that badly just training with the weaponsmaster. Or did another student hurt you?"

"It happens when your Father tells the armsmaster to use any means necessary to beat the sissyness out of you and turn you into a real man," her nephew told her bitterly.

"Withen thought you were—"

"A nancy-boy, yes," he nodded. "I guess it started when Lissa and I were children and she used to dress me in her outgrown dresses, but he's never liked my music or my clothes. Doesn't understand why I'm not eager to get hacked to pieces in a fight." He ducked his head.

"I assume that's what got you sent off to Haven," Savil sighed. "I hate to say it, but my brother's gotten much more hidebound in his old age. By the way, I prefer to use the term _shay'a'chern_, not nancy-boy. It's much more polite."  
He looked at her with hope in his eyes. "Then you don't mind?"

"Mind? How could I, when one of my own Trainees is the same way? No, lad, what you do in bed is nobody's business but your own. Now, eat something and take yourself off to bed. It's been a long day for you."

"Thank you, Aunt." He smiled at her, then left the common room.

Tylendel came out of the background to sit on the couch were Vanyel had. "Well, Teacher, he Feels quite different than he did last night. Like he's been hurt but is healing. Ye gods! The pain when he talked about his Father, though. I think he's been starved for affection for a long time."

"That fits with what I read. I wouldn't be surprised if his sister was the only one in that family who showed him real affection. My brother didn't want a son, he wanted a miniature copy of himself to parade around."

"Poor boy. He would be _shay'a'chern_, and test my self-control."

Savil looked at her protege. "'Lendel..."

"Don't worry. I'm not going to jump his bones. I want him to settle in first."

"That's all I ask. I don't want either of you to get your hearts broken."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three:**

The next morning found Vanyel sitting in Bard Breda's office after breakfast. "We'll start with the basics. What classes did Savil put you in yesterday, lad? And how are you doing in them?"

"I'm woefully behind in History, and confused in Religions, but I think I'll do fine in Literature. Oh, and my Aunt has me in weapons training."

"Hmm. We don't normally do much weapons training for Bards, but if you enjoy it you might as well keep it up. If you're behind in History and Religions you had better stay in those classes, they are important subjects for Bards. I think we can drop Literature for now, to make room for a music class. What instruments do you play?"

"I know harp, gittern, and lute, but I brought only my lute with me. I was not supposed to even possess the others. I may be able to have them sent."

"It is no great worry if you can't. We have plenty of instruments at the Collegium. Since you already know the ways of a few instruments, we'll start you in Music Theory before you learn others. That settles your classes, now we need to discuss chores."

"Chores?" He was surprised.

"Yes, Vanyel, chores. We get the same reaction from all the highborn students. Everyone at the three Collegia does what they can to help out. We don't expect the Bardic Trainees to do things that might damage their hands, of course, but there's still plenty to do. I think we'll start you with instrument making and mending, since you'll need to know how to make your own soon anyway. So, weapons training and chores in the morning, then classes after lunch. Music Theory will take the place of Literature. Think you can manage that?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I—yes, I think I can."  
"Good! Now, since it's almost time for chores, I'll take you to the instrument workshop, and you can meet some of your fellow Trainees.

* * *

Vanyel hadn't been sure what to expect from the instrument workshop, but the large, sunny room smelling of varnish and wood shavings that Breda showed him was very pleasant.

"Vanyel, this is Master Arnor," Breda said, beckoning to an older man at the other end of the workshop. "He's in charge of this place, and he'll show you what to do. Arnor, Vanyel is our latest Trainee, and he's highborn."

"So you'll be bewildered by all this. Well, we've had highborns before this, and they've coped. What _can_ you do with an instrument, lad?"

"I can restring them," Vanyel offered hesitantly. _Oh, Gods, I look like a fool and a spoiled brat._

"Anything else?"

He flushed. "No, I'm afraid not."

"Don't fret, lad, you're no worse off than any other highborn Trainee. Breda, I can take it from here, no need for you to stick around when you have other duties."

"Then I'm off," she said. "Good luck to you, young Vanyel."

"Alright, m'boy," said Master Arnor, looking at him. "The other Trainees will be here soon, and I'll introduce you then, but right now I'm going to teach you to make a drum."

"I'll learn whatever you want to teach me." _I don't want to make a bad impression on my first teacher here at the Collegium_.

"Then follow me over to the racks back here. This cabinet's where we keep all the drum-making supplies. The others are for other instruments, but everything follows the same system of organization."

As Master Arnor showed Vanyel how to stretch the wet hide over his chosen round of wood, a group of five students came clattering into the room. "Heyla, Master! Ooh, who's this?" The speaker was a tall, red-headed girl.

Master Arnor straightened. "Trainees, meet the newest addition to your merry ranks. Vanyel, meet Ajela, Trey, Beryl, Lerris, and Daria," he announced, pointing to each in turn.

"Another highborn, eh?" Asked Ajela, the redhead. "I remember I could barely tune a lute on my own when I started. Don't worry, you'll learn fast."

"Ha!" Trey snorted. He was a short boy, with wildly curly blonde hair. "Not if you're anything to go by."

Ajela drew herself up. "I'll have you know that I've greatly improved since entering the Collegium."

"You know," Daria, who looked like she could be Trey's twin, spoke up, "I've never understood why they don't start you highborns off with library chores anyway. You'd think it would help to settle in if you had something easy to start off with."

"Yeah, but instrument work's the best way to introduce you to life in the Collegium." That was from Beryl, a brunette.

"Enough chit-chat," Master Arnor announced. "You all know your tasks, now get to them."

The girls settled in next to Vanyel, industriously cleaning lutes. "I am _so_ glad you've come," gushed Daria, fluttering her eyelashes at him. "We're running out of boys."

"Not boys in general, just boys who are inclined to bed girls," Beryl clarified.

_Should I trust them? I'd hate to alienate my classmates on the first day, but the girls did hint that there are others like me in the Collegium_. "I'm afraid I can't help you there," Vanyel said, spreading his hands apologetically. "I'm more inclined to bed boys myself."

"Oh, poo." Daria pouted. "All the pretty ones want boys. Are you sure that you can't make an exception for me?"

"Sorry," he grinned. "Now that my Father doesn't matter, I don't intend to make exceptions for anyone."

"Ah, well. I'll just have to follow Ajela's example and hunt in the other Collegiums," she sighed.

"I'm sure they will welcome the intrusion," Ajela said dryly. "The Heralds are rather short on girls."

"If you two are done planning your attack," Beryl interrupted, "poor Vanyel looks a bit bewildered."

Suddenly Vanyel found himself on the receiving end of all three girls' attention. "So, who are you rooming with?" Ajela asked. "I remember how strange it was to have a roommate when I got here."

He flushed. "Actually, I don't have a roommate. My Aun'ts a Herald, so Breda's letting me live with her Trainees instead of over her. They have a lot more space over in the Herald's wing, so I get my own room."

"Lucky you! No roommate to worry about if you want to do something other than sleep," Daria exclaimed. "Poor Lerris can never bring boys back to his room because his roommate growls at him."

Vanyel found himself taking a second look at Lerris. The other Trainee was tall, broad-shouldered, with light-brown hair. His hands, like most Bards', were slim and strong.

"If you want him, go for it," said Beryl, catching his glance. "I know for a fact that he's unpartnered right now."

"You think he'd be interested?"

"Oh, yes. Despite what Daria said, boys who prefer boys aren't _that_ abundant over here. Most people take what they can get."

Vanyel resolved to stage an encounter with Lerris after class. Now that he had nothing to fear from his Father, he might as well enjoy himself.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four:**

Savil followed her protege into the Workroom, making sure the door was secure before turning to face him.

"Sit." He obeyed, perching on one of the high stools kept there.

"Good. Now, what in Havens has you so distracted these past few weeks?"

Tylendel groaned. "Your nephew, Teacher dearest."

"Vanyel? He hasn't been—rude to you, has he?" She queried.

"Gods, no," Tylendel shook his head. "He's been perfectly polite, and kind, and helpful, and overall just wonderful. The problem is that he seems intent on bedding every male in Bardic Collegium, and never once looking at me as more than a suitemate."

"Making up for lost time, I suppose," Savil said dryly. "Certainly he wouldn't have gotten much opportunity at home, with Withen being such an ass. But, 'Lendel, how is this a problem? There's a soundproofing spell on the rooms, so it can't be disturbing your rest. I can't very well tell him to stop his behavior, unless I want to come off looking as bad as his father."

"Savil, it's killing me!" Tylendel raised his head, and she saw that his face was rather drawn and haggard. "To look at him, and not be able to touch, when he's lovely, and sweet, and absolutely perfect for me in every way. It hurts so much to see him with other people." Tylendel was openly crying now.

Savil was shocked. She'd thought that maybe Tylendel was infatuated with her too-beautiful nephew, but this seemed far more serious than simple infatuation. In fact, Tylendel was displaying all the classic symptoms of a lifebond. She Mindtouched her Companion. :_Kell?:_

_:Hmm?:_

_:Do you think Vanyel and Tylendel could have lifebonded?:_

_:What?:_ She could Feel Kellan's startlement. _:Hmm. Now that you mention it, I can see the signs. Ask Mardic and Donni about it if you wish, but the lads themselves are the ones who'll know for sure. I'll talk to Gala about this, and try to keep it under wraps for a while.:_

_Ye gods_, Savil thought. _Why am I the one who ends up with all the lifebonded students?_ "'Lendel, you know I'm not very good with affairs of the heart, but—have you tried _talking_ to Vanyel at all? Or have you just been worshiping him from afar, and relying on the Collegium gossip network to get news of him?" The guilty flush on her Trainee's round face told her that this was exactly what he'd been doing.

"Bright Havens lad! How are you ever going to know how he feels about you if you don't at least talk to him? The two of you have the suite to yourselves tonight, as I'm taking the lovebirds out for a field trial. I expect you to take advantage of the privacy and talk with him. You _need_ to get over this distraction, 'Lendel."

* * *

Vanyel sat in the instrument workshop with the same group of Trainees as on his first day, cleaning a lute. There always seemed to be an endless supply of lutes to work on.

"How are your conquests going, Van?" Daria asked with a grin. "I need to live vicariously through _someone_."

"He's stalled out," Lerris answered for him, smirking.

"I've been celibate for weeks!" Vanyel exclaimed dramatically.

"Two," Lerris put in.

"It's not funny," Vanyel pouted unhappily. "He refuses to notice me at all. I'm lucky if I get a nod in the hallway."

"What? Someone is immune to your manly charms?" Trey mock-swooned.

"Not funny." Vanyel slumped down. "I can't get him to say a word to me. I'm getting extremely frustrated, and not just sexually."

"So move on," Ajela suggested. "I know you haven't gone through everyone in Court and Collegia."

"I can't," he moaned. "That's the problem. I don't want to even _look_ at anyone else. My heart leaps just when he walks into the room. I'm reduced to writing terrible, sappy ballads whenever I try to compose. If I don't make some progress with him, I think I'll die."

"That's a bit melodramatic," Beryl remarked mildly.

"The Ice Prince has fallen in luuurve," Trey mocked.

"So who is it?" Daria wanted to know. "We're all on edge here, trying to find out who has finally captured your heart."

"Tylendel," Vanyel sighed.

"Ouch." Beryl remarked. "You _live_ with him and you can't even get him to talk to you?"

"I'm starting to think that he hates me," Vanyel was getting gloomy. "Either that or he thinks I have some sort of horrible disease."

"I don't think he _hates_ you exactly," Ajela ventured bravely. "But the Heralds seem to want to know their partners before jumping into bed with them. It takes a little more time. Have you tried actually talking to him? Or are you just exerting your charm on him?"

"Charms," he admitted reluctantly.

"So try my tactic," she said triumphantly. "If that doesn't work, then you can come back and complain."

"Very well," Vanyel agreed. "I'm not nearly as confident in this plan as you are though."

"If worst comes to worst, you can always seduce him with your music," Lerris suggested. "It worked perfectly well on me."

With a laugh, the conference broke apart before Master Arnor could notice that they hadn't accomplished anything.

* * *

Tylendel scowled as he worked his way through a particularly boring history text. _Doesn't do much good to have Savil and the lovebirds gone if His Loveliness is absent as well_.

As if the thought had summoned him, Vanyel wandered into the suite. "Hullo," he greeted Tylendel. "Where's the rest of them?"

"Out," the other Trainee replied. "Savil's in some sort of a meeting that's supposed to last most of the night, and the other two are out on a field trip."

"Ah," Vanyel smiled absently. "I _did_ know of the meeting—Breda's at the same one—but I seem to have forgotten in favor of thinking about myself. Well, my harp is waiting for me to practice, so I'm off to my room for the night."

"Wait!" Tylendel burst out.

"Yes?" Vanyel turned back towards the other boy.

"Could you practice out here instead? This text is awfully dry, and I could use a distraction."

Vanyel raised an artful eyebrow. "Well, if you'd really like to listen to a Trainee fumble his way through his assigned work, then who am I to refuse? Besides," he grinned unexpectedly, "no Bard ever turns down an audience."

Some time later, Tylendel had put aside his reading in favor of admiring the picture that Vanyel made. _It really is quite cozy in this room, despite the storm outside. Vanyel's room is bound to be cold, with that garden door. Hmm...I wonder if I can use that to my advantage somehow...Offer to keep him warm?_ He was startled out of his musings when the other boy flung his harp aside.

"I have _no_ Creativity," the musician announced.

"Creativity?" Tylendel asked, puzzled. "I think you're plenty creative."

"Oh! It's different for Bards," Vanyel explained. "There are actually three Bardic Gifts: Talent, Creativity, and what we all call the Bardic Gift because we don't know how else to describe it. Talent is just being musical and Creativity is being able to compose your own music. You only need two out of the three to become a Bard, and I have Talent and the Gift."

"I think I understand," said Tylendel. "So you can play a variety of instruments, and do whatever it is that Bards do to their audiences, but you can't come up with a wholly original work."

"Right. Or at least, it's very difficult to come up with something original. But Master Donovan still wants me to compose something for his class. I'm limited in what I can play, anyway, because of my hand— "

"What's wrong with your hand?" Tylendel interrupted.

Vanyel grimaced. "Another legacy of that...unfortunate incident with the armsmaster at home. Along with a cracked skull, I also broke both bones in my arm. Nobody cared to make sure the arm healed perfectly, so I lost some feeling in the fingertips. When I start my instrument lessons, I'm supposed to visit the Healers, to see if they can do anything to help."

"That's terrible!" Tylendel burst out.

Vanyel looked sober. "My family didn't think music was terribly important. Aunt Savil's the only adult in my family who actually cares about me. Did she ever show you the letter my Father sent when he found out I was a Bardic Apprentice?"

"No! That's a private family matter."

Vanyel shrugged. "She showed me. It was nothing I didn't expect. He was outraged. Said he'd told her explicitly to keep me away from Bards, and she went and handed me over to them. I've been cut off from the family purse, and the only good thing about it in his viewpoint is that he's free to make Mekeal his heir without having to arrange to get me out of the way."

Tylendel was amazed. "And I thought my family was bad. At least I have my twin."

"I have a sister who loves me," Vanyel offered. "Look, this subject is depressing me, and it's getting late. If we're not going to bed, can we at least talk about something more pleasant?"

Tylendel cocked his head at him. "Was that an invitation?" He teased boldly.

Vanyel flushed. "I didn't mean for it to sound that way, but if you want it to be, then yes."

Tylendel groaned. "I do want it, very much, but I'm so bloody tired...look, your room's bound to be cold as ice. I can at least keep you warm tonight."

Vanyel looked at him. "You can keep me warm any night." He gathered up his belongings and turned to go. "I'll be waiting for you."


End file.
